The Woman in 203
by MidnightRaith
Summary: Dr. Temperance Brennan has waited for the truth behind the disappearace of her parents for fifteen years. When a Jane Doe matching the discription of her mother turns up, she finds she may not find that the truth she so desired satisfying. AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, everyone. :) Mmm... I'm MidnightRaith, and I've decided to post this fic to sort of satisfy my own desire for one like this. Basically, I've been trying very hard for the past week or so to find an AU of The Woman in Limbo. My efforts turned up ziltch. Trust me, I tried every tag I could imagine... If anybody knows of one that I just couldn't find, then I'd be happy to hear from you. I'd love to read how others picture this going.**

**Moving on, this is essencially a fic about what would happen if Brennan had to do the ID on a Jane Doe under far different circumstances...**

**My one-time disclaimer: I don't take claim for anything related to Bones.**

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><p>1<p>

Jenna Langford never really paid mind to checking up on the patient in Room 203. It was a pretty easy patient, what with the woman in question confined to a coma for the past nine years. It was a simple matter to just check Jane Doe's vitals and move on. The young nurse fresh out of college didn't expect this morning to go any differently.

She entered Room 203 as she did last Tuesday and the Thursday before that, however, this morning would prove to be significantly different. Instead of seeing Ms. Doe lying unmoving in her bed as she predicted, the older woman was struggling to take stock of her hospital room.

Jenna stopped in her tracks as she tried to remember what she was supposed to do in this situation. Eventually, the young nurse opted to backtrack and call a doctor as the nurse's station. Her co-workers were baffled when they head the page and corresponding room number.

"Did you get the right room number, dear?" Wilma Wilcox, one of the more experienced nurses, questioned doubtfully.

"Yeah!" Jenna defended frantically, "I totally went in there and saw her looking around."

"You're sure?" Wilma pressed, "I've not seen the poor thing move a muscle in all the years she's been here. You're sure it was her?"

"Yes, Wilma! I'm completely sure the lady snapped out of her coma," Jenna answered as she wrung her hands.

"Well, did you say anything to her?" Wilma asked as she stood up suddenly from behind the counter, "Don't tell me you just left the poor woman."

"Ah…."

Muttering under her breath about the insensitivity of young people, Wilma hurried to Room 203 with Jenna trailing behind her. Once she made her way to the room, she was surprised to find that they younger woman had been correct. Jane Doe was now blinking quickly and facing the ceiling.

Wilma managed her shock much better than Jenna.

"Hello, dear," she greeted the woman who didn't appear much younger than herself, "It's okay to feel frightened, but you're safe here."

Dark, brown eyes snapped to the nurse. For several long moments, the unknown woman struggled for something to say. She eventually blinked and settled for one of her many questions. Unfortunately, she was unable to speak around the breathing tube.

"Oh! Jenna, get her some water," Wilma said hurriedly as she began to carefully extract the tube from Jane's mouth, "This is just a breathing tube to help you. The water will be for the sore throat."

The woman had no idea what to make of anything Wilma was telling her, but she didn't have long to think on it. Dr. Henson and Jenna arrived within moments of each other.

"Well, good morning," the doctor greeted warmly as Jenna administered the water, "I'm very glad to finally see you awake."

Under the insistence of Jenna, Jane Doe drank her water slowly. Dr. Henson checked her vitals in the meantime, but waited patiently for her once she was finished.

"Finally?" the woman managed to croak out. She didn't like it; her throat felt distinctly unused.

The doctor smiled sympathetically, "I know this will be hard for you to process, but please let me explain. You're here at Central DuPage Hospital in Winfield, Illinois. You were dropped off, unconscious by an unknown party with a head wound. My predecessor did all he could for you, but unfortunately, you slipped into a coma. You've shown no change previous to today."

For several minutes, the woman took her time to process what Henson told her. She had no memory of anything to speak of and she could not understand who would have left her here or why. The other pressing concern was the coma the doctor just spoke of. She had little memory of who she was, but she did know _what_ various ideas, concepts and objects were.

"How long?"

The doctor debated telling her this. While competent at his profession, he had little to no experience with long term coma patients. He had no idea if what he was about to tell her would violently upset her. The woman lost nine years of her life. Dr. Henson sighed and figured that the poor woman would never recover if she didn't know the truth of her condition from the start.

"You were checked in nine years ago," he carefully revealed.

Jane Doe blinked in utter shock. Her mind kept echoing the doctor's words. How could she have been here for nearly a decade? How could she have been on life support for that long?

"An unknown benefactor has been supporting you," Henson answered the question she had not realized she posed.

"Why?" she gasped out.

"We don't know," he told her uncomfortably.

"Who am I?" the woman posed not a second later.

The doctor looked even more unsettled.

"We don't know," he repeated, "The hospital has made inquiries, but they've hit dead ends without you or anyone you could have known to aid in them. Now that you're conscious, I can have another made for you, however it won't go far unless you can give us something, anything, to tell the people at Missing Persons."

She was silent for several long moments as she struggled with what she knew. Actually, she was well aware of what she knew; the woman needed to concentrate on _whom._

"Keenan!" she blurted out.

The doctor and nurses jumped in surprise. Clearly, they did not expect for her to give them any kind of information at all.

"Anything else?" Dr. Henson inquired after his surprise lifted.

The woman opened her mouth to tell him that she had nothing else, but another name made her stop. This one made everything around her freeze. She knew the previous one, and knew it well. It was one she associated with recklessness and adrenaline… and greed. The new one, however, brought back feelings even more powerful. Chief among them were safety and temperance. There were many more, including happiness, however they all linked and spun together in a way that made any other feelings nearly indiscernible. The exact significance of this name, or the other, wasn't clear to her. Rather, it was clear that this one was much more important than the first.

"For-forget about the first name," she breathed.

"First? You have another?" Henson asked.

"Yes. Look for Brennan."

"Is this a first or last name?" he questioned.

"I don't know."

Henson accepted her answer and attempted to inquire about any other issues she may have been experiencing. The woman wouldn't answer, however. She was tired, confused and could feel a headache beginning. She wanted to take the time to think.

"All right, Ms. Doe," Dr. Henson began once he realized there wasn't going to be any more conversation with her, "I'd like to keep you here for a bit longer for observation and therapy. There's a television and if you're in need of anything, you can page a nurse with the button to you left."

Everyone left the woman to her own devices after that. She didn't know if she should feel grateful or lonely to be left here. She had a lot of information to process, regardless of her feelings, but she did know something with certainty.

She hated the name Jane Doe.

* * *

><p>Five Years Later<p>

She had an appointment with some man from Missing Persons. It still amazed her that it took those people two years to even look at her case. Apparently, since she could support herself and wasn't in mortal danger, they put her case is some messy pile of paperwork and forgot about it until she began to get annoying. Government at its finest, won't do anything until someone complains; loudly.

If there was any sort of advantage to all the waiting, it would be that she had started to regain her past slowly, but steadily, in the past three years. It was agonizing for her to dream of faces, events and places yet not have the ability to realizes their significance or place them in any sort of cohesive timeline. That's how it was at first, through persistent therapy and hypnosis; she was slowly able to recall more and more of herself.

Her name was Christine Brennan for starters and she was married to a man named Matthew. Surprisingly, those names seemed wrong to her at first, and still do in a way, however those feelings were disregarded when she remembered the other two faces.

Christine Brennan had children. Temperance and Russell Brennan whom she remembered one day while out shopping. She never would have guessed that her interest in a dolphin figurine would prompt her to recall that she loved the creatures and that Temperance did as well. Once the name came to her, Russ's did as well and the fact that they were her _children_ hit her with the force of a ten ton truck barreling down the interstate.

Everything after that seemed so trivial. She was very certain that she cared deeply for her husband, but those feelings were nothing when compared to her children. She remembered that they were young when she would have been taken to the hospital. Why wouldn't they have known she was there? Were they all right? She couldn't believe that they would have simply forgotten about her. Christine could not remember what had led to her coma. Only that it was tied to Max, or rather Matt, and the events that occurred before Temperance was two. She thought that odd. Before she met her husbands, the memories were getting cleared, as did the ones after sometime following her daughter's second birthday. However, there was a noticeable gap. After she met her husband, and between Christmas time and her admittance in the hospital she could recall nothing. It seemed bizarre and not at all good.

What happened to Max… Matt? He was not safe, that much she was sure.

The woman was jarred from her thoughts once she heard a knock at her apartment door. She'd moved to the outskirts of DC on a whim a few months after she got out from the hospital. Christine had no real idea why, but she worked as a bookkeeper for a local business. It was what she remembered, she supposed.

She opened the door to reveal a large, slightly over-weight man that looked to be in his thirties.

"Christine Brennan?" he flashed his badge, "I'm with the FBI in the Missing Persons and Kidnapping Division."

She stepped aside.

"FBI?"

"Yes, this type of case falls under the jurisdiction of the Bureau. Now, I'm to understand that you have amnesia?" he asked as he made himself at home on her couch and began to spread her file out on her coffee table.

"If I didn't, then we'd probably not be having this conversation," she said irritably.

Christine knew she was being rude, however, she felt justified considering the FBI apparently took their time with her case. She could understand that more recent reports would take precedent, but the five year wait seemed a bit extreme to her. Really, it would technically be… what? Fourteen, fifteen years when she last saw her family?

"Yes, probably not," the agent had the grace to look uncomfortable, "Anyway, my name is Agent Mark Mason and I've—"

"Agent Mason, I'm sorry that I'm a bit annoyed right now, but I've been waiting for this for years. Can you please just tell me if you've found out exactly who I am?"

"Right, of course," he said after a pause, "I believe I have found your exact identity. It was a bit of a giveaway at first glance. The only problem was tracking down someone to verify that you are, in fact, Christine Brennan.

"So, that's true then," she said softly, "Wait, why would verification be difficult? I remember children… my children. Wh-what happened to them?"

Mason exhaled loudly, "That's the tricky part. Apparently, when Christine Brennan and Matthew Brennan—who I do believe is your husband and yourself—disappeared, they left behind children."

"Yes, Russ and Tempe," she confirmed. Christine was a bit surprised that the nicknames came to her so suddenly.

"Right, you left them for whatever reason. I questioned anyone that would have resided in your neighborhood, but no one seemed to have any idea why the both of you left," Mason could barely mask his disapproval.

"Please, Agent Mason, why my husband and I disappeared doesn't matter to me right now. I just want to know what happened to my children," she pressed.

"Mrs. Brennan, you don't think your children will want to know what happened to make their parents abandon them?" he asked incredulously.

Christine bristled, "I'm sure they will, but whatever happened doesn't change the fact that I need to find them. Besides, I can't remember and I doubt Max and I told anyone anything. Only time will help."

"Max? I thought your husband was named Matthew," Mason asked in confusion.

"It was what he liked to be called," she said dismissively, "Agent Mason…."

He studied her for several moments before continuing, "According to your previous neighbors, it wasn't a few weeks later until your son left and you daughter had to be put in the foster system."

Christine stood up suddenly as Mason's words reverberated within her. She was shocked. The amnesiac may not remember a variety of things, but she was sure that she remembers her children. At least, she remembered who they used to be. Russ may have been eager to find a god time, and trouble by extension, but she recalled that he had been devoted and protective of his younger sister. Why would he have left her? Why did she leave?

Then there was her poor Temperance; so brilliant, yet awkward. She was often more at home within books then around her peers. Her daughter had been confused and disarmed by social situations most people wouldn't think about. How could she possibly have handled foster care?

"Where did they end up?" she asked softly.

Agent Mason was reluctant to tell her one half of this story. He realized that he had misjudged this woman. After going over her case and digging up everything he could, Mason couldn't believe that Christine Brennan would actually care about her children. He figured the woman was financially insecure and wanted to take advantage of her situation. His theory was only strengthened once he found out who the daughter was. No that here were many Temperance Brennans, but there was a chance…. He thought it suspicious that two seemingly normal people would just leave their lives behind, but apparently Mrs. Brennan really didn't remember. Since there wasn't anything obviously criminal about her aside from a fifteen year old child negligence charge, there wasn't much he could look into. He shrugged mentally; she seemed to care at least.

"Russell ended up in North Carolina and got arrested for running a mechanic shop that sold hot car parts. He's out on parole now," Mason finally told her.

Arrested and on parole. Her son has a criminal record. Never had Christine wanted to know why she left than now. She was certain her son wouldn't have been in his situation if she and Max had not left. She was scared to think of what may have happened to her daughter if Russ was any indication.

"Temperance? What… what happened to her?" she asked fearfully.

"Well, fortunately, you daughter had a happier ending. After she aged out of foster care, she went to Northwestern University on scholarship. Got her a doctorate in forensic anthropology and went to work for the Jeffersonian Institute. Actually, the FBI has been consulting with her on several murder cases. Dr. Brennan's even written a novel," he finished.

Christine gaped at him. She knew her daughter was very gifted, but this was far more than she could have hoped for. She was pleased that Temperance made the best of her situation despite her doubts of the foster system. Apparently, Tempe had a pleasant experience with it.

She could hardly believe that she was probably only a few miles away from her daughter as well. She was pleased, yet saddened at the thought. What if she read more? Would she have checked out her daughter's novel from the library? Saw her in the paper? If she was really helping with murder cases, there had to have been some indication in the city. How could she have missed this? Christine figured she was too busy trying to fix her life to notice that at least a third of it was within city limits.

She found her voice.

"I-I thought you were having difficulty finding them?" she got out.

"Well, Russell Brennan was simple, but your daughter was more difficult. There aren't a great many Temperance Brennans in the world, but the foster system did make things easy. Apparently, she went through quite a list of families and homes. Took some time to get through them, but I managed. I was ready to contact one of them, most likely Dr. Brennan, but you insisted on meeting with me," Mason answered.

"Well, I wanted to make sure my case was being looked into," Christine said defensively.

"And it is. So, would you like me to contact your daughter, or would you like to meet her with me? It would probably be a simple matter to get a cab over to the Hoover Building. Of course, I'll have to inform her why we'd like to meet her," he stated.

"I-yes, that would probably be best. I'd like to speak with Russ too," she added.

"I can arrange that, but it would probably be a better idea to have your daughter verify your identity to start with. That way we can make sure you are who we think you are and to have time to do the necessary paperwork. It's not easy to get a parolee out of state."

They made their plans and eventually Agent Mason left her apartment. Christine had thought she would feel better after meeting with him, but she didn't. The man answered many of her questions, but more replaced them. Temperance could probably answer them, but she felt horribly nervous about meeting her. It occurred to Christine that her children may not be a happy to see her as she was them. They would have questions for her as well and she would have nothing to give them. She hoped they will able to understand.

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><p><strong>AN #2: Okay, I will freely admit that I sort of cheated on the coma thing. I realize that people don't _usually _recover from a coma lasting as many years as Mama Bren's did. (Though there is a case of a Polish man completely recovering from a _nineteen_ year coma. Amazing right?) I also know that anyone that actually awakens from any sort of coma are extremely disoriented and would not actually start talking and interacting with their surroundings like this story. However, as I debated about whether to keep this realistic versus a Hollywood writing ploy, I decided that had I chose the former, the fic would have stalled and the reader would be having to go through significantly more narrative. Perhaps another chapter of it. I really wouldn't expect y'all to want to go through that, especially when I find it boring to write about to begin with. If anyone is disappointed about this development (because Bones enjoys the sciency bits, even when they aren't completely accurate) then I apologize, and I hope you can forgive me. :)**

**That said, look forward to Brennan, Booth and a bit of the squints in the next chapter...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So guys...guess what? Yep, that's right, I've posted a new chapter lol. Now, I know this was really fast, but I can't say that this will be a regular thing for me. New chapters back-to-back will be rare. Thank my job for putting me out in gas with nothing but this to work on... oh, and the watching the gas pumps and the register... **

**Anyway, I wanted to clear up something. This fic takes the place of the Season 1 finale. Consider this an alternate to The Woman in Limbo. Eveything after that episode has yet to happen. As far as B&B are concerned, there is going to be UST up the butt with them, just like the show at Season 1's ending. I'm going to be upfront and say that they won't be getting together in this fic because I like to keep AUs as close to canon as I can. That's what makes AUs fun to write for me. Change one thing, and see how the characters would have reacted. So, now that's out of the way, here's the second chapter. :)**

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><p>2<p>

Dr. Temperance Brennan felt distinctly hurried. She's gone through many court days, but she couldn't remember the last time it fell on the day that everyone seemed to need her. She didn't necessarily mind, after all she is a world renowned forensic anthropologist, she could handle whatever her co-workers wanted from her. Booth was mostly responsible for her hurried feelings. She knows she has to go to court, but she can't get there without her original notes and she can hardly find them when he's pushing her out the door.

She was forced into relying on her photocopies when he insisted. They were nearly out of the Jeffersonian when they ran into David who brought up her notes _again_. She knew she needed them. No one was going to accuse her of improvising again.

"What? Bones, come on!" Booth complained as she wrestled out of his hold, "All right, I'll wait in the car. You've got three minutes," he called after her.

The forensic anthropologist was only half listening to her partner. She was occupied with her attempts to remember where she had put those notes. Brennan took pride in her memory and her organization skills. She didn't forget things and she didn't carelessly leave her notes about. Logically, they would be either in her office or on the forensics platform. However, considering that she doesn't leave closed cases on the platform, the only possibility left was her office.

Her phone rang just as she passed the office her forensic artist, Angela Montenegro, used. She knew she had to get those notes, but she could multi-task and it could be important. In fact, she was sure it was. She just saw Booth and Angela and they were the only people that made up her list of potential social calling candidates.

"Brennan," she answered.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan. I'm Agent Mark Mason from the FBI office."

"Agent Mason, you are aware that I already have a partner within the FBI?" she questioned, "I will only work with him, and any case you wish to give me should first be presented to Agent Booth," Brennan informed him hurriedly.

She had just found her notes and was ready to end what she viewed to be an unnecessary conversation. She realized she was the best forensic anthropologist in the world, however, that did not mean she would work with just anyone. In fact, she saw the ability to choose who she wanted to work with as a perk for being the best. She'd be happy to go out to meet Agent Mark; however, he needed to go through the proper channels.

"I-no, Dr. Brennan, I'm not asking you to work with me. Well, I am, but not in a murder investigation," Agent Mason hurried to explain.

"Then I fail to see why you would need me to begin with. Forensic Anthropology involves the identifying of remains that are too decomposed, burned or otherwise destroyed to be identified through normal means. Considering that the victim would have to be dead in order to reach that state, I can only conclude that you do not understand what my work entails," Brennan told him irritably as she began to walk out of her office.

"I simply want to meet you at the Hoover Building, Dr. Brennan! This is only to verify the identity of your mother, Christine Brennan," Mason blurted out in frustration.

Brennan stopped in her tracks, all thoughts of court cases and notes forgotten.

"What did you say?" she managed.

Agent Mason pounced on the opportunity to get a word in.

"I've been working on your parent's missing person's case and I believe I've located your mother. I just need you to come by the Hoover Building to confirm."

"I don't know what that means. Are you saying that she is dead and you need me to identify her?" Brennan questioned numbly.

"No, no, your mother is alive. At least, I believe she is. I just need you to confirm," he repeated.

Brennan didn't hear anything past Mason telling her that Christine Brennan was possibly alive. She took pride in her quick mind; however she found that it had stopped completely. Her brain fixated on a single word. One that the doctor would refuse to even consider in her occasional fantasies. _Never _had she entertained the idea that one or both of her parents could be alive after those first few years. They had to be dead, or they wouldn't have left her. Now she was struggling to face the notion that they may have simply abandoned her like her old classmates and fellow foster children stated all those years ago….

"Dr. Brennan? Is something wrong?" her superior, Dr. Goodman, asked in concern.

Her eyes snapped to his face, but she had no explanation for the former archeologist. She was still trying to process what Agent Mason had just told her and the feelings that came with it. For the first time in a long while, her impressive ability to compartmentalize utterly failed her. Brennan's mind was stalled.

"Bones! Chop-chop, we've got a court case to go to in like… now!" Booth yelled suddenly, "Bones?"

Booth took in his partner's appearance. They'd been working together for some time and he thought he did a pretty good job of reading her. However, the way she looked now pretty much escaped his knowledge of her facial expressions. She was deathly pale and her eyes stared at nothing in particular. Booth had seen his partner surprised, but this went beyond any kind of shock he'd ever seen her display.

He noticed that she was holding her cell phone to her ear and snatched it from her nerveless fingers.

"Hello?" he barked aggressively.

"Wh-what? Dr. Brennan?" Mason asked in confusion. He was just about to end the call when he hadn't received a response from Brennan.

"No, Special Agent Seeley Booth," he corrected harshly, "Who is this?"

"Agent Mark Mason. I assume you're the FBI's liaison to the Jeffersonian. I work in Missing Persons and Kidnapping."

"What did you tell her? This doesn't have anything to do with her brother does it?" Booth demanded.

It would not surprise him if it did. The man apparently could not stay out of trouble; an actual disappearance on his part might upset Bones. He knew they didn't keep in contact, but he doubted his partner didn't care about the only family she had left.

"Agent Booth, I'm sure Dr. Brennan appreciates the concern, but I can't disclose that."

"What? Look pal, we're batting for the same team here, not to mention whatever you told my partner has her upset. Unless you want this investigation out of _your _hands and in mine, then you start talking," Booth threatened.

Mason sighed. He doubted that Booth could really do anything, but he just wanted to close this case. What was a minor breach in confidentiality if it brought him results?

As Mason informed Booth of the situation, Brennan seemed to snap out of her shock. Booth's raised voice had attracted the rest of the Jeffersonian team and they all tried to question the anthropologist. She wasn't in a particularly talkative mood, however, and retreated to her office.

"Yeah, I'll bring her by," Booth ended the conversation noticeably more subdued.

"What was that all about?" Hodgins asked curiously.

"Yeah, Bren's never looked like that before. Spill, Booth," Angela demanded.

Instead of answering, Booth pulled out his own phone and dialed.

"Yes, I'm going to need you to take Dr. Brennan off the witness list for today. She won't be able to make it," he looked to Brennan's form in her office as he ended the call.

"Booth!" the artist demanded again.

The agent sighed, "That was the FBI. They found Bones's mother."

"Good God," Dr. Goodman said in shock.

"I don't understand. Dr. Brennan always seemed to have accepted the high probability that both of her parents would be dead," Zack mused.

"Whoa, hold on there. First off, Bones can be sad about that. Not everyone is a little squinty robot. Second, they found her alive," he corrected irritably before heading off to talk to Brennan.

The Jeffersonian team stared at one another for several moments.

"Following Agent Booth's logic, Dr. Brennan should be happy that her mother is a statistical anomaly. She didn't seem happy," Zack stated.

The team had to admit that he made a point.

* * *

><p>"Bones? You okay?" Booth asked gently as he sat next to her on her couch. Brennan was staring at the floor.<p>

"I always thought that for my parents to disappear like they did, that… that they'd have to be dead," she told him quietly.

"But they aren't. Or, your mom isn't at least," Booth said for her.

"I don't know what to think of that. What do I think of that, Booth? Should I be happy?" she asked him.

"Are you happy?"

She thought over the question carefully.

"Yes. There is a significant part of me that is happy…. I'm angry too. Is that wrong?"

"No, Bones. I don't think that's wrong. I think you're normal. You know you're going to have to meet her and Agent Mason, right?" Booth asked carefully. He knew of his partner's tendency to ignore painful subjects, such as her parents, and the fact that her biggest issue was confronting her was going to hit his partner hard.

"What about the trial?"

He chuckled humorlessly at getting her right.

"I already told the prosecutor to take you off the witness list. You'll testify tomorrow," he told her.

"Booth! This case is important! I can't believe you did that," she exclaimed.

"Bones, you just found out your mother is alive. If you care that much about the case, then you'll deal with this first, and then you can be your regular objective, rational, squint self tomorrow," he flashed his unique smile.

Brennan wasn't in a tolerant mood.

"My state of mind has not been affected in any way," she protested, "I'll be just as objective today as I am at any other point in my life. I'm going to request to be reinstated on the witness list and I'd appreciate that, in the future, you not make my decisions for me."

She got up to sweep out of her office, but Booth grabbed hold of her elbow and gently pulled her back to the couch.

"What are you afraid of, Bones?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not—" she started to protest.

"Temperance, this is your chance to find out what happened. Isn't that what you've always wanted? The truth?"

She sat silently for the longest time. Brennan had to admit that her partner was right. One of the most important reasons leading to her career choice was the thirst for truth. She realized long ago that she may never find it for herself, but if she could do so for others, she often felt that in a way she was getting closer to locating her own. It made no rational sense, but it was one of the few feelings she could never compartmentalize despite her best efforts. Sometimes, she wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"What are you afraid of?" Booth tried again.

"What if they were right all along?" she blurted out.

"Who? Right about what?"

Brennan refused to answer that question.

* * *

><p>Christine had been with Agent Mason throughout the entirety of the phone call. She had insisted despite knowing that her daughter may be busy but she wanted to see if they could meet as soon as possible.<p>

Her heart had leapt into her throat at the start of the call. She could hardly believe that Mason was actually talking to her daughter. She longed to do so herself, but they both agreed that it would probably be best if they attempted to ease her into the situation. Despite Temperance's forward personality, Christine figured her living status warranted a bit more tact, even for someone like her daughter. At least, she thought her daughter might be similar to the teenager she remembered.

The beginning of the call seemed to confuse Mason just as much as it did her, which she thought was amusing. Perhaps Temperance was very similar to her memories. She was surprised when Agent Mason blurted out his reason for calling. It was only a few moments later when the conversation seemed to deteriorate and Mason began to question if her daughter was even on the other end of the call any longer. The notion that Tempe may have hung up on them saddened her more than anything she could remember.

Everything took a weird turn when _another _FBI agent took over the conversation. Christine remembered that her daughter worked with the FBI, but she couldn't understand the concern that this Booth displayed. Mason eventually told him about her and then thanked the other agent before ending the call. He seemed relieved.

"Agent Booth will be bringing Dr. Brennan by shortly," he informed her.

Christine frowned, "Who is Agent Booth and why does he need to bring Temperance anywhere?"

Mason shrugged, "Apparently he is the FBI's liaison to the Jeffersonian. I've heard about him, but we don't get much news about the good stuff down in Missing Persons. He gives them the murder cases the higher ups assign to them. He also said something about being Dr. Brennan's partner. Had to have misheard, though. That would mean he actually brings her out in the field," he snorted.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"This isn't anything against your daughter, Mrs. Brennan, but scientists and techs don't belong out in the field. They don't know how to handle themselves. I've certainly never met one that could anyway," Mason explained.

She decided to move on to something else.

"What did she say? When you told her about me, I mean," she said uncertainly.

Mason chuckled, "I'm going to be honest and tell you that the entire call was weird. She didn't seem too inclined to listen to me at first. The doc seemed to be concerned that I was going to ask her to work with me on a murder case."

"Temperance must work on a lot of them then," Christine wasn't sure what to think about that.

"Maybe. At any rate, she started lecturing me on what she does once I told her it wasn't a murder investigation. That's why I had to just come out with it. Dr. Brennan wasn't letting me explain anything to her," he said with mild frustration.

She had to smile at that. Temperance had a tendency to become fixated on topics.

"I probably should have informed the both of your children about the investigation sooner. Probably would have made things much easier. She didn't say anything after I told her what was going on, and then Agent Booth started in on me…. I guess it doesn't matter. I told him where to meet us and he said he would bring Dr. Brennan."

Christine hoped her daughter's silence wasn't a bad thing. She desperately wanted to see her and she hoped that she could believe Agent Booth. They both ended up waiting in silence within one of the many meeting rooms inside the Hoover Building. Mason had left the glass door open and it surprised her in a way that the FBI sounded like a business firm rather than a law enforcement agency.

As she waited, she thought about all the ways that this meeting could go. Ideally, Tempe would accept her they could go about repairing their relationship. Worst case scenario was her daughter not bothering to show up. That terrified Christine to no end and she thought it worse than anything Temperance could actually say to her. At least in any other situation she turned up and displayed that she cared that much.

"Bones, don't tell me you're rethinking this," she heard a male voice say in exasperation.

"I'm not," a familiar voice said firmly, "I just… need a moment."

Christine was certain that she knew who owned that voice. For years, she had not been able to recall it, but now that she heard it again, she could place it perfectly. It was more mature, but it definitely belonged to her Temperance.

"You've had a lot of 'moments' since getting here. Now you're just trying to get out of it," the male accused.

"Maybe I am!" Temperance shot back, "It's none of your concern, anyway, Booth."

"We're partners, Bones. We gotta help each other through the hard stuff. Now, helping you is going to involve pushing you in the right direction. I can do that metaphorically or literally. Your choice," Agent Booth told her.

Temperance scoffed, "Booth, you are well aware that I've incapacitated men that match your size as well as men that were significantly bigger than you in the past. What happened to the prep talks from earlier?"

"Pep talks, Bones, pep," he corrected, "And I already gave you one in your office, then in the Jeffersonian lobby, another in the car and one on the elevator up here. I'm pepped out, now it's time for tough love."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means that I'm not going to let you leave until you go in there and talk to your mother," he explained with exaggerated patience.

"Booth, she may not even be my mother! This could be a waste of time," Temperance ground out.

"Exactly! This could be a giant waste of time. If it is, won't you feel irrational and silly making this into such a big deal? What if she is your mom? For someone who likes the truth and facts and empirical stuff, you sure are quick to jumping to conclusions," Booth sounded smug.

"I'm not jumping to conclusions! I'm merely trying to prepare myself for a possible scenario," she snapped.

"What? Is _the _Dr. Temperance Brennan positing a scenario?" Booth asked in mock surprise, "What happened to following the evidence in a logical, rational manner? I thought entertaining different scenarios without the facts was baseless conjecture?

"Here are the facts, Bones. You got a call and received what might turn out to be some of the best news of your life. Then you got scared and that's fine. It's okay to be scared about this. Here's another fact though. If you run away without getting the truth, you might just regret that for the rest of your life. You've been waiting for this for fifteen years, Temperance. This is your chance to find out what happened," Booth reminded her seriously.

Temperance was silent. Christine began to worry that she may have left. Neither seemed to realize that they were so close to the meeting room and that they were quite loud. It was painful to have to listen to her daughter actually debate with Agent Booth over seeing her. She had tried to prepare herself for the event that Temperance would reject her before even speaking to her, but she found that nothing could have made her ready. It was heartbreaking. Mason was looking at her sympathetically.

"I hate psychology," she heard Temperance say finally; "It's a soft science."

"I'm right, aren't I?" Booth pressed, "Not everything fits into logic, Temperance, and this is the perfect example."

They just about walked past the meeting room Christine and Mason were waiting in. Both seemed distinctly uncomfortable as they realized that the room's occupants probably heard them arguing. Neither addressed it, however. Booth had too much tact and figured that the best course of action would be pretending that the argument never happened. Brennan may have said something but she was too preoccupied with the woman sitting at the table.

* * *

><p><strong>AN#2: Whoo, that was actually a fun one to write. I think I got Booth and Brennan right, those two are really my only concern with this chapter. It seemed natural as I was writing this out, but y'all are really the only people who can decide that as I'm a bit biased. So, throw me a bone (no pun intended) and leave a review. I love them. Also, if you think of any other fics that have the same general idea as this one, then tell me that too in PM or review. I don't care which. I'm not kidding when I said that I was looking for something like this. I'm really craving one...**

**Thanks for reading and look forward to an upset Brennan...**


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